Game On
by SarahSwan7
Summary: Will & June journeying to work. One-shot, inspired by the film 'Spooks:The Greater Good'.


**A/N: I wrote this at the time the film was released and now that it's available on DVD (yay!) I thought I'd share it. I got the sense that these two would become close friends/be in a relationship if there were to be a sequel. A few spoilers, but nothing major. Hope you enjoy it!**

An efficient knock was the sound that tore Will Holloway from the little sleep he had managed to grasp. Ever since being reinstated at Five his sleep had been erratic, if any, nerves jangling from the adrenaline that hadn't quite dissipated from the events that had occurred a few weeks ago. And now, on the morning of his first day, the precious shut eye he had managed salvage had been rudely interrupted.

Will lay still, scrubbing a hand across his eyes irritably. It was probably a postman. If he stayed quiet, they'd give up and go away.

Another knock.

He swore and dragged himself from layers of duvet and blanket, pacing towards the door, ready to give whoever this unwelcome guest was a piece of his mind.

"Good morning, newbie," said the voice brightly.

"What are you doing here?" he grumbled, crossing his arms. He wasn't renowned for his politeness, particularly not at such an early hour.

"Charming. I thought I'd walk you in," she told him.

"I'm not a kid, June," Will growled. "You woke me up," he added bitterly as an afterthought.

June raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow and titled her chin, meeting his gaze evenly and salvaging the broken relationship with three simple words.

"I brought breakfast."

Fifteen minutes later they were sitting on the tube, eating almond croissants and slurping espressos. The short time he had spent in MI5 had taught Will to get ready quickly, consume caffeine whenever given the opportunity, and utilise his trademark glare that could kill in order to get a seat. Commuters were packed like sardines around them, elbows poking into backs and armpits pushed into faces. The underground was dangerous territory and unbearably hot. Will pulled off his jacket, nearly decapitating the person next to him with his elbow, feeling a bead of sweat prickle on his forehead. He stared straight ahead, absent-mindedly watching June in the reflection of the window. She seemed unfazed, even though the last time they were at Thames House could well have been the last time they were anywhere. Only in hindsight could Will see how close he came to death that day. If he fired a second later, Qasim would have scored a bullet in Will's skull. Thankfully it had been vice versa.

The train slid to a halt, doors rolling open. Will frowned. June caught his eye.

 _We are sorry to announce that due to maintenance issues this train cannot continue on its designated route..._

Will groaned and got to his feet, clenching his coffee cup in one fist. He didn't wait to hear the irritating voice inform him of alternative routes. He hopped from the train, June by his side, and they wove through the crowds. When they resurfaced on the street Will realised they were about a twenty minute walk away from Thames House.

"I bloody hate the Underground," he commented disgustedly, chucking his coffee cup in a nearby bin.

"They we won't use it," June said breezily. "Split up. First one to Thames House wins." Her tone was now serious.

Will raised an eyebrow. "I told you I wasn't a kid."

"Who said this was a game?" she replied nonchalantly. "Choosing the most efficient travel routes is key for surveillance, counter surveillance and so forth. See it as... your initiation." She grinned to herself. "Afraid you'll lose?" she asked.

Damn. She must have caught his frown. Will couldn't suppress his competitive streak.

"What happens to the loser?" he asked.

June chewed her lip contemplatively. "They have to buy tomorrow's breakfast."

Will raised his eyebrows. "There'll be tomorrow's breakfast?"

"Why not?" June challenged. Then she grinned. "Thanks in advance for buying it, by the way."

She turned abruptly and hopped onto the bus that was just pulling away from the stop beside them.

"Game's on, Holloway!" June called as the bus crawled away.

 _She is not going to win this_ Will told himself adamantly. He looked down the road at the bus which was now a red freckle amongst the other vehicles, noting with satisfaction that the traffic had slowed to a standstill. Unsurprising, considering the hour. June was impulsive, and a bit of a show off. She didn't really think this through.

Will allowed himself a tiny smile before sticking his hands in his pockets and walking down the street, whistling a tune. Getting to Thames House on foot was the winning move.

When he arrived there seventeen minutes later (having quickened his pace a little, just to increase the gap between his arrival and June's as to allow further gloating on his part) she was nowhere to be seen. Will leant against the rugged brickwork, breathing in the coolness of the morning air and pondering about what to order for breakfast.

He was only there for a minute or so before he heard heels trotting down the stairs inside. He stuck his head through the main entrance.

"You took your time," June told him, folding her arms.

"You were on the bus. It got stuck in traffic," Will supplied helplessly, disliking the feeling of defeat.

"That was just for show. I've got a motorbike: cuts straight through the traffic," she told him smugly. "Well, don't just stand there. Mace wants us in the meeting room."

She headed up the stairs, head held high, before calling over her shoulder "I'll have a Danish pastry tomorrow."

Will sighed. Sleep-deprived, ego battered, and about to be strapped for cash thanks to buying breakfast for a friend.

This first day of his was going to be more difficult than he thought.

...

June had always been impulsive. It made her operational decisions reckless, but often effective. So when the idea of meeting Will sprung into her head she decided to act upon it.

Breakfast. A simple gesture of friendship. June hoped they could be friends, despite the rocky start involving them pointing guns at each other on several occasions. But now it was clear that they were on the same side, and she wanted it to stay that way.

June ordered her regular choice from a pop-up breakfast cart next to the Thames before picking something for Will. He looked the type who drank coffee like all spies do: it had to be hot and had to be black. Espresso it was. As for breakfast, that was a lost cause. She decided on an almond croissant because it was her favourite, and she was yet to discover someone who didn't like them.

Carrying two identical breakfasts in a paper bag, June walked briskly down the street and towards the sleek black of flats, letting out a low whistle. She knew Oliver Mace had sorted out Will's accommodation following his offer to rejoin MI5, but this was seriously swanky.

After tracking down his flat and knocking briskly on the door she began to feel nervous. Was this overly ambitious of her, to salvage a friendship with him? Would he shut the door in her face? Did he hate almond croissants?

When the door finally opened ( _he must be a heavy sleeper_ June couldn't help but think) she was met with a glare, which softened ever so slightly as he casually dragged his eyes over her form. His words were groggy and somewhat abrupt, but when she disclosed that breakfast was on offer he perked up considerably, grabbing his jacket and even offering a small smile as they headed outside.

As they sat on the tube she glanced at him picking apart the croissant, thankfully not allergic to almonds it seemed, and wondered what it would be like to work with him. He was reckless too, she could tell that much, but other than that he was a blank page. Generally that meant someone was a good spy, but it also made June suspicious. She liked to know where she stood with people. She hadn't the slightest inkling whether Will liked her or loathed her. He seemed to have a permanent frown fixed on his face and his bloodied knuckles suggested he'd been in his fair share of fights, but he'd said thank you for the breakfast and had held open a door for her on their way here. Whatever he was like, Will Holloway was not to be under-estimated.

After the train fiasco (which was to be expected considering London's poor track record with vehicles actually getting to places on time) June decided to test the waters. She wanted to see if he was competitive like her.

He certainly was. When she breezily mentioned a competition his ears had pricked up and his jaw was set determinedly. Little did he know that she had a motorbike parked just around the corner from here. Why else would she suggest the game unless she knew she would win?

June had to admit that victory was intoxicating. As she ordered Will that she would like a Danish pastry tomorrow morning, the tiniest of smiles had crossed his face before he rolled his eyes good-naturedly and trudged up the stairs behind her.

Maybe Will could be a friend in this strange world of theirs. It would be nice, seeing as friend and foe are often indistinguishable. Friends in this business would most likely betray you. June thought that for all his flaws, his recklessness and grouchiness and anger bubbling away, if Will was anything at all he was loyal. Finding loyalty in someone in this business was like finding gold.

She hoped today's breakfast would be just one of many.


End file.
